A Red Sunrise
by Eredhys
Summary: They had always loved watching sunrises, and this one was no less exquisite than the most beautiful ones they had seen. [BoFA one-shot without any movie spoiler]


**AN** Have some BoFA fic. This was written BEFORE I saw the movie, so it has nothing to do with the movie itself and you can read it if you wish without fear of being spoiled anything about the way it happens in the movie. I hope I didn't leave any typo… Tell me if you spot one!

There are two themes to that one-shot if you fancy listening to music while reading something to get in the mood**. Copper Down – The Boy who Trapped the Sun (+Rainy Mood)** or, if you can't stand songs with lyrics while you read, **On Thin Ice – Hans Zimmer (Extended).**

**Disclaimer : Everything related to Middle-Earth belongs to Sir Tolkien. I own nothing.**

* * *

**A Red Sunrise**

" _Suddenly I have this feeling  
Tasting copper in my mouth  
I look to watch the clouds for my last breath. "_

The armor felt heavy on his shoulders. Perhaps it was not only the weight of the actual armor he was feeling.

Not far from him, dark eyes were staring at him. They made his heart ache. They shouldn't be laden with such solemnity and earnest resolve. There was apprehension, too.

There was a call. It came from far away and it echoed around the place. He felt oddly detached from reality when he started striding forwards, side by side with hundreds of shiny warriors under their pristine battle gear.

The thought that they wouldn't still be that untarnished in a near future stirred an unexpectedly low amount of concern and feelings within him. A hurricane could burst at any moment now; there would be nothing left to shatter.

Then the dark-eyed figure was by his side and an almost appeasing breeze brushed his hammering heart.

_What's going to happen, now?_

He didn't stop walking and his gaze didn't waver from the broad doors that had opened to a hell of deafening violence. He replied anyway.

_We will see the morrow._

He sent him a smile.

* * *

Everything had gone well so far.

He had begun to tell himself that perhaps, in the end, they would be alright. Despite the sickening view of the accumulating corpses and the stench of blood, sweat and death, nobody he knew had fallen.

They were whirlwinds of flashing swords and fury, slashing through the enemies' ranks like a rain of blades and crushing them like a tidal wave. As long as they stayed united, they would never be defeated.

As long as they had been together, they had always been victorious.

Then there was a shout – one of pain shortly followed by a cry of triumph. The brothers whipped to their left in a swift motion, just in time to see their King – their uncle– crash to his knees. Where he had hitherto been empty of all feelings, they suddenly swelled at that sight and they blew up in the sharpest of daggers, mercilessly going through his heart.

_No. This could not be happening._

It was almost magical how their perfect harmony had been shattered in that oh-so-brief moment. The flawless machinery of their movements fell apart and Kili –his little brother, his second half– sprung forwards towards their fallen uncle. He tried to stop him; he tried to go after him but a mace got in the way. He lost two, perhaps three seconds avoiding it. When he had furiously torn the obstacle down and went to join his brother it was too late already.

When he felt burning tears erupting from his eyes, he didn't try to hold them back. Dwarves –Heirs of Durin– were not supposed to cry; of course: even less so on a battlefield, where enemies could see him, where he should be ashamed of such a display of _weakness_.

Yet he couldn't care less about the flow streaming down his face at that moment, for he had no reason to be strong anymore, no reason to keep fending them off. He was blind to everything but the body that had fallen to the ground, deft to the uproar around him as he ran and tripped to his little brother's side, flying through the distance that still separated them despite the seas of spears and swords spiking up at him. He had no reason indeed to keep himself from crying when he dropped next to Kili, for everything was lost.

_And why would there be any reason left to keep tears at bay when all hope had died out?_

He didn't speak. He couldn't speak. He tried to, but everything he could have said would have disappeared and gone unheard. Kili couldn't hear him now. He had sworn he would not let him alone. Where his brother had gone, Fili could follow. The teardrops kept falling. He understood, deep within his heart, that he had already given up the moment the body he held had stopped shuddering with the faintest breath of life.

End was coming and nothing would prevent him from mourning the life he was leaving – and he cried. He cried for the life he had loved and left behind, he cried for the new life he could have led if it weren't for that battle, he cried for the future he wouldn't live to see.

He cried for the children he never cared for, the wife he never loved, the places he never wandered.

He cried for his mother whom he left with a promise and would not see again to say he had fulfilled it. He cried for his Uncle –his king– whose dreams had led them all to death.

He cried for his brother, even younger than himself; for sweet and loving Kili who was forced to depart this cruel world in a hell of pain and grief.

No matter how hard he had tried, fate was laughing at him. They had fought to come to this, they had endured and they had overcome hardships, hoping that one day they would know peace and live a well-deserved life.

Fili had known peace. He had dwelled in the Blue Mountains all his short life and so had Kili. They had been children of the green vales and flourishing forests, they had loved exploring the slopes of the mountains in the springtime, chasing after wild animals and whispering tales and secrets when night had fallen upon the world. There had been storms and harsh winters but always did sunrays defeat storm clouds. Many a soft breeze had carried them to the end of their little world, over hills until they reached the rim of great cliffs to behold, after thaw, wild and tremendous rivers throw themselves over the edge in a deafening uproar. The blue sky had seen and heard the laughter of their mother and the quiet contentment of their uncle; the caves had been lairs to a myriad of terrible beasts they would imagine at the hour of lengthening shadows and dwindling light.

Fili didn't feel the spear that pierced his back. A fond smile had replaced his tears, which still shone as gleaming tracks on his grimy face.

They had loved watching sunrises whenever they could, back to Ered Luin, or even on the Quest. They couldn't count anymore how many of them had left them in awe, but somehow the memories held strong and never faded in their minds' eye. The colours were still of a lucent magnificence when they remembered such glorious moments, even in the gloomiest hours of night.

Fili's fingers tightened around Kili's. His breathing came in short raspy breaths and though he couldn't say how, he was now looking up at the sky instead of staring at the blood-soaked ground. The heavens seemed heavy and mournful. Yet he could tell that they were covering a stunning sky. He imagined it; at this hour, a dazzling masterpiece of bright warm tones mixing up with grey-blue trailing clouds. He could tell the weather was going to clear. Night would pass over the world and turn bleak greys into joyful yellows and greens and reds for the morrow.

But he knew there would be no sunrise for them.

* * *

The sun did come the following day. Dawn appeared in mesmerizing tones of red, crimson and gold, painting the sky in bright hues for yet another break of day.

It was cruel, somehow; how indifferent universe was to the tragedies that wrecked our world, how after ruin and desolation, after the darkest nights and the most ruthless events, life and light would still rise from the void. This day was no exception. Regardless of the devastated scenery it illuminated, a deep blood red sunrise bathed the battlefield and its surroundings in a vivid light, life followed death and time kept trickling by as a new day rose up, and so Earth would go forever until all light went out.

Seeing this dazzling morn, some would mourn; for as old beliefs made it think, a red sunrise was the sign that blood had been spilled at night.

But they had always loved watching sunrises whenever they could, and this one was no less exquisite than the most beautiful ones they had seen.

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**AN** I don't like reading this kind of fics and I do one myself. Alright.

Well, I was not going to publish this but decided it would be a shame to throw it away –so here you go. I was growing insanely unsatisfied with it and I'm still not liking some parts of it. I hope it's still alright! For those who don't know me, don't forget English is not my mother tongue and I'm looking for feedback, ways to improve or people telling me my mistakes –so review if you please! You all are wonderful. :)

See you!


End file.
